Handcuffs
by Mini Peacelet
Summary: A Freechamp twist on tonight's episode (18.04.15 The Kings Crossing). Connie and Rita are together. What if it was someone else who had suspicions that Connie helped with Alfred's death and someone else called the police? Pretty much focused on Rita for the first chapter, at least. MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS for 18.04.15.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **I wrote this after reading the spoilers for tonights episode (18.04.15). What happens if it wasn't Rita who'd had suspicions that Connie had assisted in Alfred's death? It's quite random, not sure if it'll be continued, depends what people think! Now I've watched the ep, it doesn't exactly fit but still, it's my twist on The Kings Crossing. _**Contains possible spoilers from 18.04.15. **

_~Mini Peacelet~_

* * *

Handcuffs

Rita sobbed. Lament with negative, smothering emotions, hot, salty tears gushed down her unblemished cheeks to the curves of her lips, bitterly smarting as the icy, prevailing wind whirling around her in a twister. She gasped for breath, lungs starved of the oxygen they craved.

Dismay, perplexity, wistful, distress and anger battered her body in the form of a deadly concoction. All positivity had been crushed into unsalvageable dust. Within less than a single day - the mere few hours of a shift - her entire personal life had been capsized. Inverted.

She was currently a flustered mess, there was no denying that. This morning her perky charisma sparkled spiritedly; she had been truly joyful and chipper as she entered work bright and early. And now she had plummeted into a lost, wretched state as dusk promptly invaded the town, chasing away the very last traces of natural light, hungrily swallowing it up in exchange for artificial lighting. The lost sensation was without doubt the worst emotion.

Raking her fingers through her tousled hair for what must have been the one hundredth time that day, the female started tapping zealously at all the pockets of the garments of clothing she wore. She was searching for her car keys. Her fuzzy head was already influencing her memory temporarily. She had helplessly perceived the bold flashing lights of the police car fade into the distance and finally out of sight, provoking her next priority.

When she located her keys, curling her fingers tightly around the selection of uniquely carved metals, the nurse began pacing in the direction of her car striding into a bleary jog. That was until she was halted in her steps abruptly, firm yet gentle hands restrained her clasping her upper arms.

Instinctively, she hissed expletives as she battled to free herself, "Get off! Let me go!"

"No, Rita. I know you don't want to but you need to be sensible and listen to me." The body shuffled in front of the blonde, tone tender yet assertive. Rita identified the figure to be Dixie through her thick, damp lashes although her vision was slightly blurred from the tears.

"I don't have time, I need to go. Now. I have to get to the police station." She persisted argumentatively, attempting and failing to dodge the paramedic who mirrored her sharp movements and blocked her path.

"I know you're probably worried about Connie and want to see her but you need to calm down first, sweetheart." The paramedic instructed, "And, anyway, if you drive in this state then you won't even make it to the nick. Instead, we'll be bringing you back in in the back of an ambulance." It was a fact and the older blonde definitely wasn't going to permit Rita to have control of a car.

"I need to go see Connie." The nurse was stubborn, rage beginning to grow at not being able to do what she wanted with her moves being obstructed.

"Fine, then I'll take you." Dixie insisted and with a groan the other woman reluctantly agreed and passed over her car keys. They both got into the vehicle and Rita demanded that Dixie stamped on the accelerator more, discontent with sticking to the speed limits.

The journey was pretty muted, excluding the occasional sniffle, as the younger female stared vacantly out the window whilst she concentrated on controlling her breathing. "Do you think Connie could go down for murder?" With a low, quiet tone, she endeavoured apprehensively.

Dixie's shoulders twitched into a shrug as she contemplated her response. She didn't want to give an illusion of false hope yet at the same time she didn't want to instigate more worry and stress. "Honestly, I don't know." She said simply, hands clasped round the steering wheel compactly as they travelled along the road, "But unless there is any solid proof that she did assist with his death or administrate something she shouldn't, then they can't prove anything, I guess."

She had very little knowledge of what happened in these circumstances and she flashed a brief glance at her company when silence reverberated the ambience once more until they reached their destination. There was no sign of a reaction.

"You can go now, thanks for the lift. I'll be fine now." Rita murmured politely although her manner didn't reinforce her words as she emerged from the vehicle and slammed the door shut, then pirouetting on her feet and marching towards the police station entrance.

The gale was still gusting in a powerful spiral as the blonde tugged her thin NHS hoodie around her tiny frame more but it was still a lousy barrier against the cool blast and she shuddered. As she walked through the mechanised doors and into the station, she captured glimpse of her handcuffed lover being escorted through to the cells. Connie's head was dipped, chestnut brow curls falling over her face and masking her expression.

Approaching the main reception desk, the nurse drummed her fingertips anxiously, "Uhm hi, is it possible to speak to Constance Beauchamp please?"

The officer was gruff with an ominous expression, "No, I'm afraid not. She has only just been bought in. You will have to wait a while. Who are you, may I ask?"

"Her girlfriend. Rita Freeman." She replied bluntly, narrowing her gaze as she studied the copper.

"Right, well, Miss Freeman." He failed to engage eye contact, too busy typing at the keys on the keyboard connected to the computer, "I will notify you when it is suitable for you to talk to Miss Beauchamp. In the mean time, please take a seat over there." He gestured to a line of plastic chairs.

With a faint huff, the younger female stomped across to the chairs and slumped down sulkily. Waiting wasn't an art she was particularly great at. She was impatient. The seats were hard and uncomfortable, creaking with every minor movement and the metal legs scraped painfully against the linoleum floor.

Minutes ticked by and the nick was gradually beginning to fill up with disorderly drunks and other members of the public who were creating anti social behaviour. A shocking percentage were adolescents. The unpleasant and filthy stench of booze was increasing as more intoxicated humans were deposited into the station, their loud and rowdy behaviour causing further disruption. And Rita was still waiting. Until a policeman wandered over and informed her that it would not be possible for her to have any contact with Connie until the following morning so she should go home and come back. Moodily and irritated, she left the station.

She had two choices. The was a vague, thin line between the options and she struggled to decipher was was more wise and astute. Return to the emergency department and confront the infuriating human being who had notified the police, therefore the culprit responsible for her partner's arrest, or, go to a local off-licence and purchase some cheap, nasty alcohol to numb and subdue the potent emotions she detested so hostilely.

Rita concluded on her second thought. Alcohol. It would only generate a gratuitous spat with an encountering altercation if she went back to the hospital. And that was accompanied with the risk of her ending up in a cell next door to Connie. Something that was totally pointless.

The bitter taste of the foul substance burned the back of her throat as each droplet trickled from her mouth to her stomach. But she didn't care, the numbing relief was sharply taking effect. She had already lost one love of her life to a prison sentence, she wasn't prepared for the thought of Connie bring sent down for murder as well. She could reminiscence the piercing click as the handcuffs snapped around Mark's wrists and he was guided out of the court room. The corresponding harsh crack of the handcuffs closing around the clinical lead's delicate wrists, the prominent fear visible in her naked eyed.

She wished this was just a nightmare that she would soon rouse from. But it wasn't. This was reality. It was really happening. And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **Thank you so much for the reviews on the first chapter! I'm glad that people liked it :D Here's the next part, it doesn't contain any spoilers for upcoming episodes (or not that I'm aware of, anyway!) and I have introduced a character of my own who may be an advantage or disadvantage for Connie ;) next chapter will see Connie and Rita see each o__ther for the first time since Connie's arrest! I'd love to know what you all think. xx_

_~Mini Peacelet~_

* * *

Handcuffs - Part 2

It was cold; really cold. The temperatures were biting, combined with the frosty flurries of winds that oscillated in fluctuating gusts. Rita shuddered as she roused from her perturbed slumber, her entire frame trembling with violent shivers. Tugging her thin - and now damp with a combination of dew and fine drizzle that had started - NHS hoodie around herself as she propped herself at an incline, her orbs blearily scanning her surroundings. She was slightly disorientated, racking her brains to remember and piece things together.

She had drifted to sleep on a grassy surface, in the park. Or perhaps lost consciousness in a drunken state was a more appropriate label. _Very classy, Freeman._ A discarded bottle of cheap vodka was tossed not far from where she lay, stationed on it's edge. The remainder volume of contents she hadn't consumed had evidently leaked out onto the ground. But influenced by the intense, fuzzy sensation that clouded her head with pounding impulses, she figured that the majority of the nasty, colourless beverage had entered her system.

Precipitously she could recall the entirety of events that amplified to this current moment. Her thoughts were briskly directed to the clinical lead; her adored girlfriend who was locked up in a police cell being scrutinised and practically accused before proven guilty.

Guilty was something she wasn't, of course. Connie wouldn't have murdered anyone. She endured great pride with her career and excellent ability as a consultant in emergency medicine - not her primary fielded category of specialism. Her skilled technique allowed her to perform life dependant procedures that no one else was capable of in the department. Connie Beauchamp saved lives.

Rita leapt to her feet ardently. Dawn was hastily approaching as the dusky shadows that haunted the night gradually began to fade. At a cursory pace, the petite blonde commenced her dash home; before she could return to the police station, she required a shower to eliminate the bitter stench of alcohol and a fresh attire.

* * *

A short while later, just gone nine in the morning, Rita entered the police station. It was pleasantly warm inside compared to the crisp cold outside that had chilled her to her bones. Inhaling a sharp breath, she ambled confidently to the desk and patiently awaited someone's precious attention. She perceived a cluster of officers - a mixture of females and males - chatting in the corner chirpily.

"DS Freeman, there's a lady over there. If you would care to decipher and help her with her requirements, then I'll go locate those files we need for that case." A male voice spoke sincerely, Rita was vague paying attention with her own thoughts whizzing fiercely through her head but her head snapped round as something captured her attention abruptly.

_DS Freeman._

Her sister had trained as a police detective; in Manchester, though. Not Holby. She occupied her role as a detective sergeant in a police station in Manchester city centre as far as the younger of the two siblings comprehended. Rita peered intently at the woman who appeared to share the same professional status as her sibling, studying to see if it actually was her.

Her height mirrored a number similar to the senior nurse's, dyed blonde hair that was relatively long and restrained in a tight bun, and a figure with corresponding curved and arcs. And as the female pirouetted sharply and marched with poise, Rita's conjectures were confirmed. The officer was her sister; Cali.

The blonde had quickly deliberated twisting round and leaving just to evade a confrontation with her sister. But then she thought of her cherished partner, trapped in an icy cell. She couldn't depart for some trivial justification. She apprehended that it was going to be presumably rather awkward with Cali, though. The tension was thickening, to the extent she could taste it on her lips.

Cali, the older of the two girls by a couple of years, spoke first while her dark orbs narrowed perplexedly as she halted at the front desk, "Rita? What are you doing here?" There was a noticeable mystified hint to her words.

Twitching her shoulders in the approximation of a shrug, the other sister responded cuttingly - perhaps rhetorically, "I could ask you the same thing, Cali."

Things hadn't ended positively between the siblings. Cali had been adamant about Rita's husband's guilt right from the very start, professionally advising her with cautions, in advance, regarding her predicted cynicisms about the situation which evolved to be accurate and true. That was when he nurse had floated off to start her new life in Holby.

"I'm here on a temporary station transfer, to work on a few cases for a short while." The detective's reply was concise but clarifying, lips pursed momentarily, "What about you? Don't tell me you're in trouble, _again_?"

Rita scowled protectively; ominous and frosty, "Don't patronise me. I haven't done anything wrong." A cutting statement as she folded her arms across her chest frustratedly, "I'm here to see Constance Beauchamp, if that's possible, please? She was arrested last night and I was told to come back in this morning."

Flicking through some sheets of paper, the DS searched for information about the woman in question, briefly scanning for any significant details, "How do you know Mrs Beauchamp?" An innocent, unemotional query yet curious.

"We work together, she's my boss. And we are very good friends." The nurse explained simply, purposely leaving out a certain piece of information, "So can I see her?"

With a small nod, Cali spoke a verbal confirmation, "I should think it'll be okay for you to see her for a few moments. She wasn't very obliging during questioning last night, obstinate that she's innocent. She'll face a day of intense questioning today, though. Perhaps a night in a cell thinking will make her more complaisant. If you'd like to follow me."

The younger blonde's lips quirked into a fleeting smile; Connie was still as stubborn as ever. Her heart crushed at the same time, however, wishing the clinical lead would be more cooperative in order to help herself. "Are you working on this case, then?"

"No, not at the moment anyway." The detective sergeant guided them into a confined meeting room for relative, "If you just wait here, then I'll go and get Mrs Beauchamp. By the way, Rita, it's good to see you again. It would be nice to catch up over a drink while I'm still in Holby."

"Yeah, I'd like that! I'll text you."

With a kind - empathetic - smile, Cali paraded out of the room and to the cell where Connie currently was. She unlocked the door and it creaked harshly, "Constance Beauchamp, you have a visitor."


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: **Another update :D thanks for the reviews. Sorry if this is inaccurate but I don't really watch that many crime/police dramas to know what is formal procedure. Only spoilers this possibly contains are some relatable descriptions from some of the pictures released ahead of Saturday's episode! I hope you like this instalment, I've been tweaking it for a while but I'm not brilliant at this whole characterisation lark! _

_~Mini Peacelet~_

* * *

Handcuffs - Part 3

Connie was a mess. A big mess. Her appearance was a complete shambles, however it ironically reflected exactly how she was feeling internally. She was ashamed and embarrassed; they had arrested her in front of the entire ED._ Her department._ Colleagues and unfortunate patients awaiting treatment had witnessed the whole event. Sizzled with rage, she loathed that the police had cautioned and clamped handcuffs on her so publicly. She had a reputation to maintain; and that had shredded into a scattering of shards. Gone forever.

The sophisticated consultant had been tempted to decline going to see her visitor, she didn't want anyone to see her in this abhorrent, disorderly state. But this may be the only opportunity ahead to have contact with someone with freedom. She had logically suspected it to be one of three, possibly four, people; Rita, Charlie, Zoe or Dylan. Perhaps it was a combination. She had to grasp advantage of this offering and twist it to her aid.

Connie had indolently regained her balance, legs trembling as they threatened to buckle beneath her. The prickly, blue blanket supplied had been tossed into a heap as she reluctantly slid her feet into the tacky, disposable slippers they had provided as a substitute when they had stripped her of her famous Louboutins.

It was chilly, she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself as she shuffled across the confined cell. Maybe it was for comfort as well as warmth. The blanket had sourced that although the cheap fibres were rough against her delicate skin and equally itchy.

With a tight clutch of her upper arms, two police offers - one of who was Cali - guided her down the dismal corridors. Their hands were clamped around her as a restraint - a manhandled precaution - and her teeth were gritted at the lack of independence she was granted. Especially when she was innocent.

"Five minutes." The male of the two coppers stated gruffly as they released their hold and shut the door with a harsh thud.

"Connie," The one word floated effortlessly from Rita's lips as she dashed across to her trembling girlfriend who was blearily scanning the room as she tried to get to grips with everything, still yet to properly identify her guest. She soon realised it was Rita, though, when the familiar, strong arms snaked passionately around her and she inhaled her sweet scent of soothing strawberries and luscious coconut.

The clinical lead's fatigued frame instantly relaxed into the nurse's loving, secure embrace, her chin propped on her partner's shoulder as her dark eyes fluttered shut, "Reets," she breathed, it was no more than a whisper and a scarcely audible one at that.

"I'm here." The blonde murmured delicately, silky fingertips stroking the former heart surgeon's long, tangled curls. "Are you okay?"

She could only imagine what Connie was going through, she personally had never been in the position of trying to prove innocence for a crime. Although she had perceived the entire affair with Mark. This was different. Her love for Connie was healthier, she was more wise and had allowed time to display that she could trust her. But one thing she was certain of; the law was either on your side or it wasn't. It was a fine line between the opposing sides.

"What do _you_ think?" There were traces of bitter anger in the older woman's voice, jaw clenched with fury, "I'm sorry, this isn't your fault." she promptly apologised and took a leisurely step back, raking her slender fingers through her hair, "It's this place. They treat you like shit, practically accuse you without solid evidence. And they labelled me as lacking complaisance." With a huff, she folded her arms moodily.

The brunette remained in the attire she had been arrested in, excluding her adored heels that had been exchanged for some hideous, plastic things - they weren't worthy to be addressed as an actual shoe - which she had abandoned in the corner.

Her long shirt that had been freshly pressed to perfection, eliminating any creases, was crinkled and puckered with the dark crimson stain of blood in the middle. The bodily fluid had splashed when she had been required to perform an emergency, life dependant procedure whilst trapped in a lift. That was the last thing she did before her arrest.

"I wish there was something I could do," Rita's manner was laced with pure misery, expression glum as she observed a faint, glassy film develop over the other female's opaque orbs, threatening to smudge more mascara further down her cheeks.

"There _is_, actually." Lips pursed together, she shook her head lightly in an attempt to attain some form of composure, chestnut coloured locks cascading down her back. Perhaps this was her chance of being able to escape this trapped place.

"Anything."

"I want you to find out who is responsible for all this. That person_ needs _to retract their statement. I didn't assist with Alfred's death; why would I do that to somebody...to someone I respected so greatly?" Her voice was starting to waver towards the end as she faltered over her words but swiftly recovered. Slightly choked. This could break her, if she allowed it. But she wouldn't; she couldn't, could she?

With a brief nod, Rita accepted her challenge, "I'll try my very hardest." She promised with compassion, "But, for now at least, I think it would be in your favour if you complied with the interviews and answer as honest as possible. I know you are innocent, but we have to prove that." She treaded hazardously, chocolate orbs flickering with apprehension.

Connie narrowed her gaze, "I can't be proven as guilty either without proper evidence. They have to let me out on bail after twenty-four hours." She stated cynically, shoulders twitching into a feeble shrug, "What about_ my_ ED? Am I the gossip? Is it still running smoothly? Who's acting clinical lead in my absence?" She pressed for information, a distraction.

She wasn't completely positive that she could label the department as '_hers'_ any longer, tensely left in suspension regarding her title. Was she still clinical lead? Or had they abolished her.

The nurse's instincts directed her not to push her partner any further, it wouldn't have the desired impact. "I don't know." She replied truthfully, "I haven't been back yet, my shift isn't until this afternoon. I'm sure you won't be the gossip, though, everyone knows better than to gossip about you!" She couldn't decipher whether her attempts at reassurance were working or not. "You'll probably be out tonight, anyway, but if not I will keep you updated."

Before the doctor could reply, the two officers entered. One of them was the male that had accompanied her during the short trip from her cell, the other was a different female. Cali had switched places with a colleague and returned to her case. Connie was removed from the meeting room and lead straight back to the holding cell, with the last thing she heard was Rita murmuring '_I love you_'.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: **Thank you for reading and reviewing! I think I have finally decided who the person who called the police on Connie is going to be in this fic instead of Rita; but what will their reasoning/motives be? ;) The interview with Connie is very similar to the one that aired bc I thought it was good and am lacking ideas how to make it mega different but I have/am adding my owns parts and thoughts! _**Contains spoilers for 25.04.15 **_Would love to know what you think! :)_

_~Mini Peacelet~_

* * *

Handcuffs - Part 4

"Didn't think we would be seeing you back in here today?" Dixie approached the nurses station casually where she had perceived the blonde sister nurse huddled over the desk in despair, elbows propped on the surface and face concealed in the palms of her hands.

Rita jerked marginally as she tilted her head up, twisting her neck to focus on the paramedic who had instigated the conversation, "To be honest, Dix, I don't even wanna be here." Exhaling a sigh, she straightened her posture and attempted to attain composure, "Connie would want us to continue as normal, though. We still have patients to treat. Zoe's stepped in as acting clinical lead but she is in meetings all day, so the responsibility falls onto me really - the clinical nurse manager. Someone needs to try to maintain tranquility around here, with a functional ED."

The female paramedic nodded and tucked her hands into the pocket's of her green uniform, "Nobody would think any less of you if you took a day off, Rita. It would be understandable." Compassion combined with sincerity, and a kind smile gracing her features, "How are you holding up?" She was knowledgable of Rita's past with Mark and was certain that this wouldn't be easy on the younger woman.

"I'm fine." The nurse wasn't entirely sure who she was attempting to convince; herself or Dixie? "I didn't sleep last night." She admitted with a feeble murmur as she clutched her hands tightly around a cluster of patient files, "I thought she would be out by now, but this is really serious isn't it?"

"Assisted murder is not to be taken lightly." The older female confirmed, "Who called the police, though? That's what I don't understand."

"Connie's innocent. She wouldn't kill anyone on purpose. Alfred was terminally ill and dying anyway. He had a DNR, it would have been against his wishes to resuscitate when he went into arrest." She stated solemnly, hints of defence prominent in her tone as she gritted her teeth together, "I honestly don't know, but I'm determined to find out."

Dixie scanned the crowded department, briefly pausing at each individual doctor and nurse as she considered whether they were responsible, or even capable of calling the police on their strict boss. "I didn't think anyone here would even contemplate doing such a thing; we are supposed to be one big team here."

"You and me both." Rita muttered as she observed another member of staff exit the room that a detective sergeant had decided to occupy to conduct interviews and another nurse entered upon request, "I'll catch you later, Dix." Another nurse had requested some help in a cubicle and she swiftly dashed to assist.

* * *

"Present are myself Detective Inspector Hartley," The dominant inspector who was hosting the interview for the case began the introduction, stopping so the others present in the room could introduce themselves.

"Detective Sergeant Billings."

Pause. A silence longer than the DI anticipated as acceptable, "Would you like to introduce yourself, Madam?" There was a gruff edge of irritant to his manner; he had already deciphered that the consultant was going to be a challenge and bubbled with attitude.

With a disdainful huff, the brunette shuffled on her chair agitatedly. She was in denial that she had actually been arrested for murder of a terminally ill patient she had become rather fond off; as if his death wasn't agonising and sorrowful enough, she now had to suffer through proving her innocence. "Mrs Constance Beauchamp."

"Thank you, Mrs Beauchamp." He glanced at the woman, lips quirked in an exasperated smile, "The time is 09:32am and this interview is being held in an interview. Constance Beauchamp has declined any legal representative. But firstly, is it_ Mrs Beauchamp_ or should it be _Miss Chase_ \- after all, you're divorced, aren't you?"

This man was already beginning to anger Connie's very last nerve, and it had only been a matter of minutes, "Is that really relevant?" She folded her arms and scowled.

"Sorry, that was a bit insensitive of me. So, Mrs Beauchamp, we are questioning you in regard to the death of Alfred Maxwell. You were the last person to see Mr Maxwell alive, correct?"

"Hardly." With her cutting retort came a abhor scoff, "He was admitted to the emergency department yesterday morning, so many people would have seen him as I wasn't the only person who treated him upon arrival."

Hartley slurped at his coffee from the disposable cup as he studied the suspect. It was definitely going to be a long interview. This female was going to be tricky to crack. "I'm talking before that, the night before he died. You did go to see him, correct?"

"Yes, I did." Connie confirmed sincerely, narrowing her gaze fleetingly.

"So you were the last person to see him alive there, yes?"

She pursed her lips together and exhaled a perturbed sigh, "Well, after I left, the staff and carers would nave cared for him and attended to his needs, so technically no. I wasn't the last person to see him alive at the nursing home."

"Did you visit him often then?"

The brunette's shoulders twitched in the approximation of a shrug, "A few times, I guess."

"How much is a few? Perhaps a more precise figure, Constance?" He prodded for accurate details, and his pathetic attention to pointless figures was provoking her rage further.

"I don't know, I didn't count." The clinical lead frowned subconsciously, how was she supposed to remember every single visit? That was a ridiculous expectation for anybody.

"I did!" A shabby, smug grin refined his features as he grasped a neat book, "You visited nineteen times in the space of four weeks according to the visitors book from the home. I'd consider that a more than a _few_, wouldn't you?" Connie rolled her dark orbs dramatically, "Alfred must have been glad you came round so often."

"I was lucky to have the opportunity to know him for the short while I did. He was an impeccable man and a very talented doctor. People would have learnt a lot from him." Sadly, she nodded and dipped her head momentarily as she desperately blinking away the teardrops that iced her eyes.

"Mrs Beauchamp, how would you describe Alfred's state of mind?"

Connie clenched her teeth together, biting her tongue to prevent the expletives that desired to propel from her lips as she displayed a trace of emotion with a sharp swallow, "He was dying, what would you expect? He was hardly going to be on top of the world."

The detective inspector nodded and promptly proceeded to the next question without a murmur of a comment, "And what about _your_ state of mind? How did you feel when he died?"

Acrimony saturated her veins bitterly, sizzling in her blood. Were these people who treated her as if she was absolutely nothing seriously questioning her mental state? "Excuse me..what do you mean?" She demanded some elaboration, her anger generating some feisty attitude.

Hartley created an unnecessary suspense, causing impatience, as he polished off his morning coffee, "Well, were you upset?"

"Of course, that's pretty obvious. Why wouldn't I be upset? It's a justifiable emotion to encounter when _anyone_ dies." The former heart surgeon's frustration accumulated more as her orbs flickered around the confined, dull room.

"We are the ones asking the questions while you are the one answering. Not the other way around." He stated gruffly, "Did you take some time off work?

"No." Connie bluntly replied before expanding her thoughts, "I am clinical lead of the ED, and therefore any incredibly busy woman. I don't have the time to take time off every time a patient under my care dies."

The male was becoming more obtuse by the second, the interview developing into a more tedious atmosphere than anyone could have ever anticipated. "Yes, we know what you are, you don't need to remind us. Did you take a small break instead, perhaps?"

"Probably. Yeah, of course, yes..." The sophisticated female faltered over her words as she attempted to recall what had happened at this specific moment. It was difficult, though, her mind was a fuzzy haze, "Yes, I took a moment or two. But I'm a professional; we cannot allow our emotions to interfere or cloud of judgement. Emergency doctors are extremely busy and we have other lives to save."

"I have a transcript here of an interview with a Louise Tyler." Hartley dropped a sheet of crisp paper in front of the suspect hastily and allowed her a moment to read and devour the information. The department receptionist had been quizzed regarding Connie's reactions immediately after Alfred's death - and it wasn't exactly in her favour.

"Like I said before, I have learnt to control my emotions. I have a job to do." She murmured and sunk further into her chair, evading a healthy posture.

"But Alfred was a friend, a man you'd come to care for..."

Connie instantly reclaimed her turbulent front and laughed humourlessly, "Do you know what, feel free to end this absurd charade whenever you feel like." She scoffed icily and crossed her arms again.

* * *

_**Next update: **Connie's interview continues and can Rita keep herself out of trouble/firing accusations in the ED..._


	5. Chapter 5

Handcuffs - Part 5

"Lofty, we have a RTC on route, ETA approximately six minutes. Could you please be on standby for arrival, with Dylan and Robyn. All we know, right now, is that there are possible head and spinal injuries." Rita requested politely as she halted by the nurse, scanning the cluttered department. They were currently being stretched to absolute limits; a shortage of staff adding to the pressure.

"Er..well..." The male nurse faltered awkwardly as he glanced between his boss and the detective sergeant who both desired his attention and resources, "DS Mangrove wants to conduct my interview now, isn't there someone else available?"

"It is essential we complete this interviews as quickly as possible. Any evidence we uncover could be vital." The female officer interrupted dryly, "Surely there is somebody else? Perhaps _yourself_? You don't appear to be overly busy, from what I have observed, anyway." Harsh and hostile. She flicked through a notepad, evading any eye contact.

Rita's face puckered in pure acrimony, fingers curling into clenched fists, "I am _very _busy, _actually_." A bitter correction, "We are missing key members of our team; including the most important, our leader! I am the port of call for all of the staff on this shift."

"We all have to make some exceptions occasionally, don't we? I'm sure you can manage for fifteen minutes." Her manner was dully cool, an ominous glare enhancing her austere eyes, "So, Mr Chiltern, please." She gestured to the room where she had been hosting interviews all day.

"No." The clinical head nurse's sharp nature caused Ben to stop, "Lofty, please go and wait for the ambulances to arrive. This could be - _is_ \- a matter of life and death. The interview can wait." She instructed bluntly and Lofty scampered off.

"You do not undermine my authority." Mangrove hissed with scorn, "Mr Chiltern was next on my list for interviews, who am I supposed to question now?"

The younger blonde shrugged futilely, "I don't know? A junior nurse who hasn't the experience to assist with major incidents. Me maybe? I'm sure you'll find someone." Her dark orbs rolled dramatically.

"Aren't you _supposed_ to be too busy?"

"We all have to make exceptions _sometimes_." Rita retorted cynically as she narrowed her icy gaze.

Subsequently to a short scoff Mangrove replied, "I wouldn't want to waste your precious time since you are so busy. We don't need to interview you anyway Miss-" she peered at her NHS badge, "Sister Freeman."

"Why don't you want to interview me?" She demanded cuttingly as she crossed her arms, "You have practically interviewed everyone that was in this ED yesterday on shift; from top consultants to junior nurses and temporary nurses here on placement. Why don't you want to interview me? I am clinical head nurse, my job involves interaction with Mrs Beauchamp on a daily basis."

"Because, we know about your personal involvement with Mrs Beauchamp. We require unbiased responses, and my colleagues and myself have decided that you may not be able to offer that." Mangrove stated sourly.

"That's ridiculous!" The nurse huffed, her attitude increasing.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight. Alfred was bought into the ED and you fail to resuscitate him?" DI Hartley's tone was curt as he twisted the truth and failed to even consider what his defendant had to say unless she was confessing to the assisted murder she had been arrested with.

"He had a DNR." Connie declared solemnly, arms neatly folded across her chest, before patronisingly adding, "For the uninitiated, that means _Do Not Resuscitate_, by the way."

"So he comes in and you stand back and let him die?"

The female sighed morosely and mulled over her words for a short while as she rephrased her thoughts, "He was already dying from severe pneumonia. I did everything I could, it was...it was a losing battle, so I called it. It was the most humane thing to do, the man was suffering. He would have died anyway, the machines kept him alive indefinitely. The pneumonia was the start of the end really, he refused treatment and antibiotics."

"You put him out of his misery?" The inspector stifled a sarcastic laugh as he tutted with a shake of his head.

"He wasn't a dog at the vets!" She protested crisply, her blood boiling at the male's incompetence accompanied with bitter and blunt remarks that displayed no respect for the deceased man who would be turning in his grave at all of this ridiculous enquiries.

"The night before, did he say he wanted it to end? He asked you, didn't he?" Exhorting further without a trace of compassion.

"Not at all."

Connie's honest answers were discarded and he persisted with his own philosophies that stimulated the pointless interview, "How much did he offer you in return?"

"Offer me?" There was a genuine perplexity to her voice as the brunette's features scrunched in bewilderment, inclining forward marginally, zealous for an elucidation.

"Or did you ask for payment?"

Rage fuelled her pungent response, forehead creased with exasperation while her teeth clenched together violently as she spitefully hissed, "That's outrageous. How dare you imply such a thing."

He shrugged futilely, "Is it? This is Alfred's will. He changed it a few days before he died. You've got thirty grand coming your way, Mrs Beauchamp."

"If those were his wishes, those were his wishes." Connie murmured matter-of-factly subsequently to her muffled gasp as pure shock. She hadn't done anything to merit such a gracious gift; it was enough of an honour just having the chance to know Alfred for a concise time.

"You don't look surprised?" Hartley announced after studying her posture and expression harshly for a moment.

"As a matter of fact, I'm very touched he would do such a thing." Her voice was an elegant whisper riddled with empathising emotions; perhaps mildly choked at the sweet gesture.

"You're not surprised because you knew about it." Discounting her lament laced words, he continued with his brutal incriminations at a disheartening speed.

"I didn't know anything about it." This time, her voice was a little stronger yet still rich as she rushed herself to attain a much needed composure and concentrate on the trivial questions hindering her.

"How did the conversation go? _'Give me an incentive and I'll end this living death for you'_?"

Shaking her head miserably, Connie brushed her dissolved hair from her face while a sigh hovered from her dry lips, "This money would not change my life in any measurable way." Assurance.

He cackled scornfully, again, "Wouldn't it? Surely it would immensely help with the cost for your flights to and from America? Because, we know that you don't travel by economy, Mrs Beauchamp. Tell me, how often do you see your daughter?"

The talented consultant scowled menacingly and snapped cuttingly, "How dare you! Leave my daughter out of this, it has absolutely nothing to do with her. It it completely irrelevant and out of order." It was an order, not a wise suggestion. And Hartley rationally noted her manner.

"Well, everyone has their price."

"I didn't know about the will." An argumentative reference edged her words assertively. Stamping that she certainly wasn't going to change her mind on that statement. Because it was true.

"He wanted to end his misery, you said no at first..." The DI's intentions were to prepare a trap, desiring that the surgeon would slip up and plummet straight into it. And his aims were beginning to prove successful.

"Well, of course I said no!" The instance those words departed Connie's mouth at a brisk rate of retaliation she regretted it. That was a confession in a copper's eyes; albeit it a loose interpretation.

He grinned smugly with delight, "So you had that conversation? You are telling me that you openly talked about how he would die? Am I right? Yes or no?"

"They were just words." The clinical lead twisted her fingers together and stared at the floor, thick locks of tangled curls cascading over her face in a masking way.

"Alfred thought a lot of you."

Her head snapped up promptly with a snort as she ominously glared at the inspector. What even was this bloke? She was stepping closer to anger tolerance by the second. "And how do you know that? Did you hire a medium?" A disdainful remark accompanied with a feisty eye roll of shear frustration.

"I didn't need to." He smirked sickly as he clasped an old, tattered book into his rough clutches and began to recite an extract, "'To Connie'-"

"I am capable of reading." She retorted and scoffed.

"The machine can't. So for the benefit of the record, allow me to continue. I am showing Mrs Beauchamp an inscription written by Alfred Maxwell. It clearly states, 'To Connie, thanks for everything.'" His smart exterior was irritating, and he was enjoying observing as his arrogant persona created tension and annoyance.

The woman pursed her lips together and fiddled with her hands sorrowfully, "We were close."

Empathetic responses gathered little interest, she was engulfed in a little bubble temporarily. Thoughtful. "Look at the book again. Thanks for everything. Yet according to you, you didn't do anything. You just visited a 'few times'. So what would make him write that particular message? You claim to do absolutely nothing and he goes and writes that. It doesn't make sense, Mrs Beauchamp."

In all honesty, Connie was as equally confused by that message. She didn't quite understand. "Before you get carried away, Alfred lost the use of his fingers weeks ago, so he couldn't have written that recently." She stated pointedly.

"So what?" Another shrug, "You could have planned this ages ago."

"We didn't plan anything." Connie promised quietly, fingertips drumming apprehensively against the table top as she stressed at not being able to prove her innocence.

His expression confirmed that he still didn't believe her, and his personal fury was starting to show, "Just admit it. You helped him on his way, you know you did."

"I didn't! I just used to talk to him." Her protective nature was soaring stubbornly as she loathed being accused. But she despised her words being countlessly ignored even more.

"Despite the fact he lost the ability to speak?" They were uncovering faults in every single thing she said.

"We used an alphabet system, it was laborious but we managed." The brunette enlightened briefly, reminiscent of the hours Alfred and herself had spent communicating with this strenuous method.

"What concerns me is that you have misinterpreted his intentions."

"I didn't." These people were the ones falsifying words, not her. She was innocent. Connie wished Rita was present right now, someone who could freely give moral support and offer wistful advice.

"So you did know what he wanted?" Hartley tilted his head to the side fleetingly, curious. He might actually be getting somewhere now. Finally.

The consultant had been reversed into a captivating corner. Her options were limited. She nodded weakly, "Yes...but I refused to even consider it." She admitted, scarcely audible as her orbs fluttered shut.

"Ah, but you did consider it, didn't you? Tell me about Eric Griffin."

She gazed up at him raptly with abhorrence that she was being reminded of a previous event from many years ago. Surely they weren't judging her over this also? "What has he got to do with this?"

"You were both suspended over an incident with a patient." He jerked her memory simple and her reply came dryly.

"That was years ago, and nothing came of it anyway."

Hartley pressed onto his next prompt, "How hard did you try to save Alfred?"

"As hard as I would anyone else." This sentence came with a degree of liveliness, Connie always put everything into saving every patient. She was a doctor. If she only wanted to save the occasional person that she had chosen the wrong career.

"That's interesting, because I have an interview here from one of your nurses who was present during the last few moments before you called it."

Connie briefly flicked through the transcript where a member of her team had described her approach and supposedly just 'let him go' instead of persisting and fighting. "He was beyond help. I did all I could, but it was apparent that it was pointless. We couldn't do anything more but let him die in peace; that's what he deserved."

"Why don't you start telling the truth Mrs Beauchamp!" The level of the DI's voice shot upwards; he was barking. Aggravated.

"I am!" She yelled firmly with a piqued growl.

A blunt statement followed yet again, "You assisted Alfred's death."

"No."

"You told your team to back off because you had a promise to keep. Alfred wasn't meant to make it to the ED, was he? Bet that caught you short notice." He chortled slightly at the thought. Everything was making sense to him.

"I want this interview stopped now."

"We can wrap this up anytime you like. Just admit what you did." Conceited, he folded his arms and reclined back in his chair comfortably. He was getting paid for this. Time was off the essence. This was his job.

"I cared for a friend, that is all!" The character of the interview was revolving into a heated one. Personalities were heading for a serious, messy crash as Connie battled immensely to contain her bold acrimony.

"You saw him lying there without much of a life and a light came on." He was tutting again and shaking his head in disgust.

The brunette was convinced he was actually death. She was now officially desperate, "No. No. It wasn't like that no. Will you stop incriminating and implying that I assisted Alfred in his death. I've made mistakes in my time but I always face up to them and accept the repercussions. But I am not guilty, not in this instance."

"Put him out of his misery and earn yourself a big Brucie Bonus." Hartley was smirking with revulsion as he persisted to plant words into the interview that Connie was unable to reinforce.

"We never once spoke about money." Repeat to highlight, to properly make her point.

"But you did talk a lot, didn't you? And those words turned to actions."

"Right, I want my solicitor! I want this stopped, now." She demanded hastily, almost a shout as she slammed the palms of her hands simultaneously against the wooden desk exasperatedly. Now she was angry; really angry.

"I thought you might say that. They all do in the end. Interview with Constance Beauchamp paused at 11:30am, pending the arrival of a solicitor as requested." Hartley pressed the machine off and smirked. He could have a convenient coffee break and leave the surgeon to stew some more. Perhaps she would be more complaisant and confess when he returned. He hoped.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews:3 this update contains the final part to Connie's interview. I shall probably take things in my own direction from the next update. I hope you like this part. x_

_~Mini Peacelet~_

* * *

Handcuffs - Part 6

The department continued to buzz with an influx of casualties, occupying every single member of medical staff as they treated injuries. Rita pressed at the buttons on the vending machine subsequently to inserting a number of coins, tapping in the combination for a bottle of spring water. She didn't have time for a proper break. As she retrieved the plastic bottle, twisting the cap, she paused abruptly before turning the corner.

"She's guilty, Charlie! I did what any responsible adult would have done. It says something that she hasn't been released yet, doesn't it? They evidently have something to investigate."

The blonde nurse peered tentatively around the corner, although she was pretty confident that she could identify that voice. She was just double checking. Now, she was almost positive of who had phoned the police which resulted in Connie being arrested.

"I asked you to wait." Charlie's teeth were gritted, eyes sternly gazing at the person opposite, "I wanted to talk to Connie first. You don't have any solid evidence. You need to retract your statement!"

"I do have evidence. Why are you defending her? Why can't you see that what she has done is a criminal offence? Do you like her or something?!" The voice was female, and her frustration was increasing sharply.

The senior nurse adopted an expression of pure revulsion, "That is way out of order!" A cutting, anger fuelled retort.

The human exhaled a sigh, dipping her head momentarily, "You're right, that was out of order. I'm sorry. But you know that what I did was right, you are just kidding yourself if you do not wish to believe the harsh truth."

"I believe Connie is innocent." He argued as they retreated into a quiet corner and lowered their tones, attempting to conceal rage as they attracted attention of colleagues and patients. "Why won't you retract your statement? What have you got against Connie?"

Rita silently sneaked closer, burying herself into a patient file so she didn't look suspicious. The other person didn't reply immediately, contemplating over her answer with pursed lips, "I have nothing against her. But I think she is capable of assisted suicide. She contently over works people to the point of exhaustion. She doesn't care about human welfare; mental and physical. If Mrs Beauchamp hadn't returned to the ED, then Alfred Maxwell would still be alive. It is that simple."

"So this is personal?"

"No, most definitely not." And with that, they separated and the woman scuttled away as the detective sergeant approached Charlie and they headed off in the direction of the clinical lead's office.

Rita returned to checking patient observations and searching to see who could be discharged. But she couldn't wait until her shift ended and she was able to return to the police station and see her cherished partner, again. She also wanted to speak to her sister, Cali, and find out if she could uncover how the investigation was going and when Connie would be released.

* * *

"Do you believe in euthanasia?" The topic had diverted onto a fresh path. Although it was another direct inquiry that required precise answers as yet more evidence threatened to mount up against the defendant.

"Can't say I've given it much thought." Shoulders twitching in the approximation of a contemplating shrug, she shuffled on her seat and crossed her legs elegantly.

"Mrs Beauchamp. I have here two interviews will colleagues of yours; Mr Charlie Fairhead and a Dr Zoe Hanna."

"Finally, some people who actually talk some sense." There was promise and trust evident in her tone as she eagerly grabbed the pieces of paper and began to swiftly read the contents for some support that these two should source.

**'**_"What you you say Mrs Beauchamp's take on euthanasia was?" DI Hartley's colleague, Detective Inspective Mangrove inquired dryly as she propped a cheap pen between her fingers ready to scribble on a notepad._

_"Next question." Charlie responded swiftly as he focused on the DS who tilted her head up to engage eye contact._

_Mangrove squinted attentively as she searched for any visible answer, although the wish to avoid such a direct question spoke for itself, "I'd like you to answer this one first."_

_"Well, erm," The senior nurse rubbed his chin as he thought, diverting his gaze elsewhere, "It's not really something you talk about over a cup of coffee, is it?"_

_"So you're telling me that you've never talked about it?" She queried as she wrote on the pad of paper in detail._

_"No."_

_With instinctive suspicions from experience, the woman pressed further, "Well, why didn't you just tell me that in the first place?"_

_"I just did." Charlie stated sincerely._

_"No, you immediately got all defensive." She didn't allow him the opportunity to object, "I would almost say that you definitely know the answer to my question. Your tense and can't look me in the eye; I know the signs when someone isn't telling the truth, done this job for long enough."_

_He shrugged dismissively, "If you say so."_

_"There you go again."_

_The nurse inhaled a deep breath. Connie would never forgive his lack of ability to lie if he didn't tread with caution, "We may have talked about it, yes."_

_The DS instantly displayed more of an interest, "How recently?"_

_"Yesterday."_

_"That's quite a coincidence with all that has happened in these last twenty-four hours. So is she for or against euthanasia?" Urging for an accurate answer to the original question, she listened intently._

_"Under the right circumstances, she would be for it. But there are many people who are for it, I included, she isn't alone." Charlie admitted finally, hoping that his opinion would add a positive justice._

_"Thank you, Mr Fairhead, but we're not interested in your opinion. That's everything."**'**_

_**'**"What are your thoughts on this case against Connie? Do you think Mrs Beauchamp is capable of assisted murder?" The detective sergeant quizzed the acting clinical lead curiously._

_"It was quite a shock, to be honest. I mean, Mrs Beauchamp isn't the type of assist with murder. She takes great pride in her profession." Zoe replied honestly as she scanned the department that was unusually quiet currently._

_"What's the type?" Mangrove joined her in looking round the ED, "So, which one of these patients today would you consider as the 'type'. I'd like you to elaborate on that statement, please, Dr Hanna."_

_"Oh, well, it was more of a phrase. Sorry. Is there anything else you need my help with?" The brunette brushed her sleek bob from her face as she edged away._

_"Mrs Beauchamp's view on euthanasia?"_

_"I'm really not the right person to ask this to. I have never discussed this with her, and I have never considered it, myself. But I guess it depends on the situation. There may be a right and a wrong time for it."**'**_

"And these are from people who talk sense, Mrs Beauchamp. That's your words not mine. Nobody can validate for you, do you see the problem? You need to start telling the truth and quickly." The evidence was mounting against the clinical lead, Hartley's tone was crusty as he was confident he was nearing the end of this interview and approaching a charge.

Connie flashed an apprehensive glimpse at her solicitor who so far had provided no use, excluding a wealthy dent into her bank balance for absolutely no legal representation, "It doesn't mean they are necessarily right, though." She muttered while studying the transcripts repeatedly.

The inspector's patience was tiring thin as he was yet to receive the responses who wanted yo perceive, "Mrs Beauchamp, we have everything we need now. I think we have enough concrete evidence to proceed with a charge."

"I didn't euthanise Alfred! I want this persecution stopped right now! I haven't done anything wrong!" The female's voice spiralled in anger, rising significantly with her flustered state with being implicated.

"Oh, but you did. Perhaps this can magically jog your memory." With bitter cynicism, he presented her with a sheet of paper from the hospital containing the results from a basic toxicology screening of the blood for Alfred Maxwell.

"Where did you get this from?!" The former heart surgeon exclaimed with repulsion and perplexity. She had explicitly requested from Alfred's bloods to be disposed off; she simply didn't understand where this had generated from.

"I'm not at liberty to say, it was an anonymous source."

"I bet it was." She hissed through gritted teeth, her jaw pulsating with a tedious ache while as she examined the report fixedly.

Hartley ingested some refreshing water before responding gruffly, "You look worried, and so you should be. It is crystal clear right there. Black and white. That toxicology report clearly shows benzodiazepine in his system. Those pills just happen to go missing coincidently and you.."

"Okay, okay. Alright." Connie raised her hands in defence before continuing with her confession, "I admit that I took the tablets. It was a stupid thing to do and I was wrong. It was irrational. But it doesn't mean I killed Alfred. Because I didn't." She sighed delicately and roughly ran her tongue over her lips.

"How did they get into his system then? Because it doesn't just miraculously happen."

"Two tablets." The brunette murmured as she fiddled with the edge of the paper, "I may have given him two tablets. Just two. That's all, I promise." Her orbs sparkled naked with fear for a split second before regaining an opaque mask.

"Only two? Are we sure that it wasn't more?"

"No, just two." The consultant clarified confidently, "It was a therapeutic dose, not enough to kill him."

Hartley rested her entwined hands on the table firmly, "You had those pills with you when you went to visit Mr Maxwell, correct?" He demanded more verbal certainty. He was onto something proper now.

A feeble nod followed, "Yes. I did, yes. I thought that maybe I could go through with it and help him with what I wanted. But I couldn't." She murmured forlornly, breath accumulating in the back of her throat, "I backed out. I told him I couldn't do it. So instead, I have him a couple to ease his agitation, I never meant him any harm." She choked slightly but recovered impeccably.

"Your telling me that you stopped halfway through? Likely story! I don't believe you. I think you gave him the whole lot!" His words were harsh to Connie's cracking exterior and she shied faintly, loud without an ounce of care.

"I didn't! I didn't I swear!" She was panicking, suffocating in an imaginary blanket of anxiety that was clamping around her at a frightening pace, "I..I can prove it! Under the desk, in my office, there's a drawer! There is a blister pack of benzos in there and you'll see there is only two missing. I only gave him two! The rest are there. If he died from an overdose then it wasn't from me, I don't have any other explanation." Her flustered state was increasing as she raked her fingers through her tousled locks.

"Very well." Detective Inspector Hartley rose to his feet and plodded out of the interview room to contact his colleague who remained at the hospital so he could command her to search in the designated location for the vital evidence that was the difference between guilty or innocence. He returned a short while later with a grim expression.

"And?" Connie queried, eyes glimmering with hope for the very first time as she padded around the room with her fingers interlaced.

"This way please." He gestured briefly and the clinical lead watched the two officers who accompanied him.

Frowning confusedly, "Excuse me?"

"The pills weren't there." Solemn, yet he appeared proud and smug that her only tiny chance of evidence had evolved into something unreal, "We are going to take you to the charge desk now, Mrs Beauchamp."

"You can't be serious?" She scoffed with fury, "What do you mean they weren't there?! They have to be there! That's where I left them!" She protested stubbornly as the officers grasped her arms in a restraining manner and guided her to the charge desk.

"Mrs Constance Beauchamp, I am charging you with the murder of Mr Alfred Maxwell contrary to the Common Law. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention now anything you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence." She was charged and cautioned, snapped from four angled and escorted to a cell.


End file.
